


Imperfect Cadence

by evilqueenofgallifrey (MayFairy)



Series: Wrong Equation, Right Answer [4]
Category: Class (TV 2016)
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M, Post-Series, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Unconventional Families, the piano fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-27
Updated: 2017-06-27
Packaged: 2018-11-19 18:31:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11319171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MayFairy/pseuds/evilqueenofgallifrey
Summary: There's one thing from his old home that Matteusz misses that is... different.When Charlie finds out that he plays piano, he insists on buying one for the house so that Matteusz is once again able to play. Both Charlie and Quill end up taking lessons from him, and Matteusz finds himself truly feeling at home in this new, somewhat strange household.





	Imperfect Cadence

**Author's Note:**

> I finally got it done! Really happy with it, I think. 
> 
> This technically takes place during The Unstoppable Force and the Sometimes Movable Object, across the last ten chapters or so, but the references are kept more subtle so that having read it isn't remotely necessary.
> 
> This is just nice, feelsy fluff. Enjoy!

Matteusz misses a lot of things from home. The smell of his mother's cooking in the kitchen, the way the sunlight would come through the blinds of his bedroom window _just so_ in the mornings, the scent of the ragged old couch he was too tall for and would stretch out on with his feet dangling over the end.

But those are all sense memories.

There's one thing Matteusz misses about home that is… different.

Ivory and ebony keys under his hands, triads and diminished fifths and perfect fourths. The sense of serenity he would get from the piano in the corner of his lounge, and the way his fingers coaxed music from it.

He hasn't played in weeks.

It's been tempting to use the one in the school auditorium, and he's come _so close_ several times. But Charlie is always with him, always demanding of his time. Matteusz loves Charlie, but sometimes he wishes he had a little more time to himself. Time to wander off on his own like he used to. Before Prom. Before Charlie became _real_ and not just the silly crush to distract him from physics and maths.

Matteusz will always be endlessly grateful to Charlie and Quill for taking him in like they have. He had been worried, after Quill got the arn out of her head, that he might find himself with a dead boyfriend and nowhere to live, or possibly dead as well.

He is glad to see that his tentative hopes about Quill's rather complex morality seem to be more or less true. As keen as she had been on killing Charlie upon waking up from her hibernation, everything that happened in the auditorium, with the Cabinet of Souls, seems to have changed that.

Things are almost… normal. He and Charlie go back to school, after taking a few days and the weekend to recover. Quill stays at home, since it's been pointed out to her that she shouldn't be revealing her surprise accelerated pregnancy to the whole of Shoreditch, and that it makes a lot more sense for her to stay inside until the baby is born and she can just claim it's adopted.

Matteusz is mainly just impressed that she actually _listened_ to that advice.

The Tuesday after the showdown with the Shadowkin, Matteusz leaves Charlie asleep in their bed and heads downstairs, only to come to a halt near the bottom of the stairs when he hears the piano concerto coming from the kitchen.

When he treads further, he finds Quill at the dining table, reading something on her phone while eating her breakfast and sipping at what he _hopes_ is decaf coffee. (There have been several strong words had about the coffee. And at one point Matteusz just decided to remove temptation from the kitchen altogether, much to her chagrin. Still, he doesn't trust her to have not found a loophole.)

She seems to be humming along with the music.

"You did not strike me as Tchaikovsky person." It's one of the piano pieces for the individual months that the Russian composed, Matteusz is fairly sure.

"I _beg_ your pardon?" Quill asks incredulously, without looking up from her phone.

"Tchaikovsky. The composer."

"Ah, right. I don't know, I'm just on the classical musical station." She sticks her thumb over her shoulder towards the stereo on the countertop. "It's a good style, no repetitive unoriginal lyrics to worry about, like on the pop station."

"Tchaikovsky is romantic style, not classical, actually," Matteusz says. "If we are being technical. People just use classical as blanket term, but if we are talking about style..."

Quill finally looks up at him, and arches an eyebrow. "Do I _look_ like I care or know the difference?" When he just holds her gaze calmly, she frowns a little. "No, hold on, what _is_ the difference?"

"Is history," Matteusz says, pulling up a chair. "You have medieval, renaissance, baroque, classical, romantic, and 20th century. Most people only count from baroque onwards, though, before is different and boring. Not enough of the same instruments as now."

"So what's baroque?"

Matteusz launches into his explanation of baroque music, with Bach and Vivaldi thanks to the help of Spotify on his phone, and she seems to know a lot of the famous pieces, which surprises him. She really does like "classical" music. Then he goes into the invention of the piano and how it resulted in the actual classical era, and sure enough she knows a lot of the Haydn and Mozart too. Romantic, with Tchaikovsky, takes a little longer to explain.

"But _why_ is it called romantic when it's not about romantic love?" Quill asks.

"Because romance means more than just love, romance is - is an _idea_ ," Matteusz says. "Romance is big ideas and feelings and big grand things. The meaning about love came later, I think. But I am not expert, of course."

"Huh," Quill says, looking vaguely interested. "The more you know. Well, as much as this broader idea of romance sounds _far_ too disgustingly sentimental and idealistic for my tastes, I like this Tchaikovsky's music. Though I prefer the ones with the full orchestra."

"You do not like the piano?"

"I like it just fine, but the effect is generally better when you have the blend of instruments, don't you think?"

"I like both, for different reasons."

Quill seems to have just realised that she's having a conversation with him that is not completely necessary, and makes a face. "Yeah, well, suit yourself," she mutters, "like I care." The piece on the radio ends and the _Swan Lake_ waltz comes on as Quill gets up from the table.

"This one is very famous. From ballet."

"How nice for him." Quill frowns at her stomach, hands coming to rest on the curve of it. "Huh. It seems to like it."

"Maybe Quilliam will be ballerina," Matteusz says with a grin.

Quill glares at him for the use of the nickname she loathes. "My child will be a warrior of the Quill first, and anything else second. And it will never, ever, go by that absurd name."

"We shall see." Matteusz closes his eyes and lets the fingers of his left hand drum across the table surface in mimicry of a scale in the song, his thumb ducking underneath his fingers and back.

"... do you play the piano?" Quill asks, voice quiet and ever so slightly curious. He opens his eyes to see her watching him from the kitchen.

"Yes," Matteusz says.

"I never knew that," Charlie says from the doorway, making Matteusz jump. (Quill does not react other than a very small eyeroll which the Polish boy is fairly sure is directed at Charlie's lack of knowledge and not Matteusz's lack of observation.)

"It never came up," Matteusz says with a shrug. "We have been busy with aliens. And other things."

Other things being sex. And kissing. And talking about aliens when they aren't busy fighting them. And Charlie sketching things (those things sometimes being Matteusz).

They've talked about music, of course, but mainly contemporary music,in an attempt to get Charlie more familiar with pop culture. Matteusz just never got around to mentioning that he plays piano. It's been something inside him, like many things to do with home, that he is reluctant to mention.

"So you haven't been able to play, since you left home? Because we don't have a piano here?" Charlie asks.

Matteusz shakes his head. "There is piano at school, but never a good time to use it."

"Well… why don't we get one?" Charlie asks, looking from Matteusz to Quill, who has her mouth full of toast and pauses when she realises that he seems to be asking her permission.

That's something that will take awhile to get used to, as well. The shift in power. Quill now actually being treated like the adult authority in the house, and not just the person Charlie can order around and expect to take care of things. Charlie is wary of her now. While she has assured them that she has no plans on killing Charlie, if only because watching him suffer from guilt is preferable to that, everyone in the house is now very aware that if she wanted to, she could.

Quill is the one with the power these days. Even if she _is_ heavily pregnant. And boy, does everyone know it.

In this case, Quill seems almost bemused at being addressed. "Why are you looking at me? Get one if you want. Why would I care?"

"You may not like the noise," Charlie says. "I don't know. You have issues with a lot of things I don't understand."

"Classical music - or romantic music or baroque music or whatever it is, is not just _noise_ , Charles, or else it would be called noise and not music," Quill says to him in that tone of voice that one takes with a particularly dim-witted child or conservative adult.

"Can we really just… buy a piano?" Matteusz asks, with disbelief. It can't be this easy, surely. Life isn't that kind, surely the events of late have proved that.

"Well, it's not like we don't have the money," Charlie says, with that simple, cheerful smile that caused Matteusz to fall in love with him in the first place.

Matteusz tries not to think about how much money the Doctor gave Charlie and Quill. He's not entirely sure that _they_ even know. He just tends to think of it as 'enough'.

"We can look up piano shops tonight, and go shopping tomorrow," Matteusz says. "Perhaps we could bring April."

Charlie smiles even wider. "Alright. That sounds good. Because I have _no_ idea what we'll be looking for in a prospective piano."

"Just hurry up and get to school. You're going to be late, and I can think of several people who will hold me accountable for that."

* * *

April is _thrilled_ about this new development.

"I can't believe you never told us you play!" She squeals as they get off the bus the next day and head down the street towards the piano shop they'd found the address for online, _Thornhill Pianos_.

"We were busy," Matteusz says, shrugging. She can't exactly argue with that.

The shopping takes a little while, and it's a struggle to stop Charlie from blurting out that price isn't much of an object in their hunt, because it's already weird enough that three teenagers are piano shopping with full intent to make purchase without an adult present.

Though, for once, Charlie's poshness is actually helping them on that front. If any teenager is like to be purchasing a piano on their own, it would be some high society one that talks and acts like Charlie.

Which is vaguely ironic, since Charlie is not usually allowed to purchase anything, at least, not on his own. (Charlie just doesn't really understand capitalism in general. It tends to get him into trouble with shopkeepers.)

It's a little boggling, being surrounded by so many pianos. Matteusz feels like a small child in a candy store. He walks among them, gravitating to several.

When he sits down and plays the first one, he feels a breath escape and warmth flood his body. He plays the soft opening to _Claire De Lune_ (he can't play the whole thing, it's too difficult, though he's determined to get it one day), and looks up to find Charlie watching him with eyes so adoring that it staggers him.

Matteusz moves across several different pianos before finding one that feels the most right. And it's not too cheap, not too expensive, and a beautiful glossy black that Matteusz knows Quill will appreciate. (Plus, he's just always preferred the classic black piano over any other kind.)

The man at the shop is happy to organise some piano movers for the next day, and Matteusz discreetly guides Charlie through the process of paying, which is still so unfamiliar to him. April watches, amused.

The piano seller either doesn't notice, or pretends not to despite immense curiosity. Matteusz suspects the latter.

* * *

When the piano arrives on Thursday afternoon, Matteusz finds himself with Charlie and Quill in the kitchen, watching the movers wheel the piano in.

Quill is blatantly checking out the arses of the two male movers, while sipping at her decaf. Charlie and Matteusz pretend not to notice.

Finally the piano is in place in the lounge, perpendicular to the television, and Matteusz sits on the stool. Charlie comes to sit next to him. There's enough room but it means they are shoulder to shoulder. It's nice. Matteusz leans against Charlie slightly. It's still hard to believe what has happened.

"Thank you, for this," he says, voice soft. "It means… more than I can say."

Charlie turns and kisses him fleetingly. Then he smiles. "Can you play something?"

Matteusz is more than happy to lift the lid and press his fingers to the keys. He's not quite sure what piece he plays, but it's pretty and light and Charlie leans his head against his shoulder as he listens.

Even Quill is listening and watching, silently, from the dining table. Matteusz can feel her eyes on him.

When the final note fades out, Quill gives three slow claps. It's hard to tell if she's mocking him or not, but he doesn't see any trace of ridicule in her eyes when he glances over his shoulder to look at her.

"Not bad," she says to him, a ghost of a smile on her lips, before she goes back to typing on her phone.

"That was beautiful," Charlie tells him, eyes shining with affection.

Matteusz smiles, pleased, and cups the alien prince's face in his hands so he can kiss him gently. Quill makes gagging noises and promptly exits the room.

Finally, they break apart and turn back to the piano. Charlie's hands reach out for it, fingers ghosting over the keys. He presses a few down, but the sound is dissonant and makes him flinch. Matteusz chuckles.

"Can you… teach me?" Charlie asks. "It would be… nice. To have something new to focus on. Other than homework." _And the fact that I committed genocide and destroyed an entire planet, and almost killed one of our friends as well._ It doesn't need to be said. Matteusz knows. He has soothed every nightmare, kissed away almost every tear.

A part of him had wanted to run and hide, after it first happened, but it had become clear that there was no turning back now.

 _You love him,_ he had been told, by the only person who could possibly understand his unique situation. _I think, sometimes, you have to start from there and work out the rest as you go_.

"Of course," Matteusz tells him.

* * *

And so, Charlie's piano lessons start. Matteusz shows him how to hold his hands, gently corrects them when they fall out of place. They get distracted by each other a lot, with the touching and the meeting eyes, and yes it's sappy and unproductive, but Matteusz wouldn't have it any other way. It reminds him that all of this heartache is worth it. Because the way his stomach backflips when this strange, complicated boy looks at him is proof that this is something real.

In the days that follow, Charlie starts to get a feel for the instrument. He tells Matteusz about how there was an instrument he used to be quite adept at back on Rhodia, but that it's nothing like anything they have here (his closest comparison has been a harp, but he says it's still not close enough to the reality). The piano is new territory for him, especially since music on Earth works differently anyway.

Matteusz shows him how to play scales, guiding his hands and showing him how to tuck his thumbs underneath his hands as he's moving them.

Vivian's and Varun's funerals are over the weekend, and the piano is where Charlie and Matteusz find themselves afterwards, the music a welcome distraction from the grief they've had to witness.

On the Monday morning, Matteusz catches Quill at the piano, tentatively pressing the keys and experimenting with the sounds before turning to one of the instructive books and studying them with narrowed eyes.

"Would you like to learn also?" Matteusz asks her.

She doesn't jump; it's nearly impossible to sneak up on her, she's too good of a warrior. She does, however, look rather put out at being discovered, and even more so at having the question put to her.

"No," she says, and it sounds automatic, because she pulls a face. "I don't know. Maybe. Yes. No. It's stupid."

"Is not stupid," he replies. "Music can be soothing. You have been through as much as any of us. More, I think. Soothing could be good."

Quill lets out a little sigh, her gaze shifting back to the piano. "Yeah."

"Would you like me to teach you?" Matteusz asks her gently.

Quill is quiet. "... why would you want to waste any of your time on me? Doesn't really seem like I've earned that sort of kindness."

"We both know that is not true. You did not have to allow me stay here, not at first and definitely not now. But you do. You told my parents to stay away from the school and from me until I wished it, and you attended the parent's evenings for me as well as Charlie, when that was not part of Charlie's command."

"So?" Quill looks distinctly uncomfortable as she glances at him. "That was just… you know. Don't make that into some big deal. It wasn't, alright?"

"It was to me," Matteusz says firmly. "You have never been nice to me, Quill, but you have always been kind." Quill doesn't look quite sure what to say about that. Her mouth opens and shuts again.

To save her from having to answer, he approaches her and the piano.

"May I?" He nods towards the stool, and she wordlessly shuffles over to make room for him. "Now, you want to hold your hands like this, curled fingers, not flat. Yes, good."

She's a faster learner than Charlie - probably more adept at taking directions from others, if she was once a soldier before she was a commander, but she also possesses a remarkable sense of focus. It is evident when her mind is completely occupied by the task at hand.

"Very good," Matteusz tells her, when he gets her managing a C major scale with both hands. Unlike Charlie, she has not complained once about his starting her with basic exercises as opposed to a piece. It seems she understands the necessity of foundation training.

He shows her a couple of other scales, gives some advice on practising them, and then finds her one of the easiest pieces in the book to start teaching her, and again gives her advice on how to go about practising it.

It is difficult to tell, but she seems pleased when they finally get up from the stool.

"Thank you," she says, and it's genuine, if a bit forced.

"You are very welcome," he tells her. "We could do another lesson in a couple of days, if you like?" She just nods, and he gives her a little smile. It is not returned but she nods again, eyes a little softer.

Matteusz, feeling rather optimistic about this new development, smiles to himself as he heads upstairs to get ready for school.

That evening, Charlie's improvement across his first four days of playing is noted while Quill learns checkers at the dining table, where she often sits to listen to one of them play.

The look of surprise on Charlie's face at actually receiving a compliment from Quill is truly something to behold, and Matteusz laughs before kissing him.

* * *

The next day is one of near insanity. It's the first day of winter holidays, and for five days from Christmas, their house is bare, so the whole gang go shopping.

Quill is not thrilled about it and spends most of the trip being a grinch in an overly large coat supposed to keep her pregnancy at least sort of hidden in case they run into people from school.

They're decorating the living room when the Doctor drops in and informs Quill that he's found a hospital in the future that should be able to help her deliver the baby without any fatal consequences, and that's how the whole gang end up in a hospital in space and getting up to a bit more mischief than they probably should given that Quill's life hangs in the balance.

But everything works out fine, and while Quill is taking a day to recover at the hospital, the Doctor drops them all home and helps them do a whirlwind shop of baby things for Quill to come home to.

It's Matteusz's idea to get a second crib for the living room, to put it right by the piano where he knows little Quilliam will enjoy the music.

Sure enough, as the days go on, Matteusz finds the baby makes a lot of happy gurgling noises when he plays for her, and she watches his second lesson with Quill intently.

"Yes, that's good," Matteusz tells Quill, who nods a fraction and keeps going.

A little while later, though, he notices how she's holding her right hand a little awkwardly, and despite his suggestions to fix it, she doesn't, even if she seems to try. He hesitates, debating whether he should press the matter, but decides that she would probably be angry with him if she were to find out he allowed her to continue doing it wrong.

"No, not quite," he says. "May I-"

He reaches for her hand, and she looks at him with alarm, jerking it an inch out of his reach on instinct. He withdraws and looks at her patiently.

"Is easier if I show you, if I guide your hand to how it should be."

"Fine," she grumbles.

Her body is tense as his fingers guide hers, and her breath catches when the first contact is made. He isn't surprised, really; the baby aside, she's only really used to physical contact from one person. Except, from what he's observed, it doesn't seem to be because she doesn't want physical contact.

On the contrary, she seems to crave it, but doesn't always know how to react to it when she _does_ get it, so guarded is her heart.

Not for the first time, Matteusz feels a sense of overwhelming sadness for Quill and all she has been through. But now, he knows that she is getting better. That she has hope. More than Charlie does, at the moment, which he could not have seen coming a month or so ago.

They're all going to be okay. One day.

* * *

Fairly often, Charlie and Matteusz find themselves on babysitting duty. Given that Matteusz is actually the baby's godfather (a surprising move on Quill's part, one that had left Matteusz quite warmed), it's rather fitting, and neither of the boys actually mind. Athena - or, as they call her, Quilliam - is a fairly easy baby, occasional surprise shapeshifting aside.

There's also the perk of the piano.

Charlie is still fairly unsure about being the one to directly look after Athena, so when the two boys sit at the piano one night when Quill is out, Matteusz holds Athena to his chest while Charlie plays the latest song he's managed to master. There's nothing complex about it, but it's nice and calming and Athena seems to like it.

It isn't long before she's snoring softly against him, and Matteusz smiles.

"You are doing very well," he tells Charlie, "you can officially lull babies to sleep, now. That is good."

"Well, I have a very good teacher," Charlie replies, smiling at him.

Matteusz smiles back, and leans in to kiss him, soft and slow and sweet, and Charlie eagerly kisses him back. They sit there on the piano stool, Matteusz with the baby in his arms, and kiss with the gentle leisure of those who know they have all the time in the world in which to be together.

"Thank you for this," Matteusz says, when they break apart. "For the piano. You brought back a piece of me that was missing. It was small, and perhaps not essential, but it is important to me. And it has been very special to me, to have been able to share it with you."

Charlie kisses him again, just for a moment. "Anything that I can do to make you more at home here, I want to know about."

"I am at home here already," Matteusz replies. "With you and Quill and Quilliam. It is… not the home I expected, and it is strange and impossible, but it is somehow the _right_ home."

"It's definitely not the home I expected either," Charlie says, frowning for a moment before looking back up at Matteusz with soft eyes. "But yes. It feels like it might be the right home. Or it will be."

"Any place with you is the right home, I think," Matteusz tells him.

Charlie's smile is so soft and warm that Matteusz thinks his heart might burst, and he feels more certain than ever that here is where he is meant to be, where he was _always_ meant to be.

**Author's Note:**

> I struggled with the title on this one, but the idea of home was important, and when I started thinking about home notes I finally got somewhere. For those that aren't musically inclined, an imperfect cadence is a pretty, two chord progression that doesn't sound finished, that has a strong pull to the home note. It seemed appropriate. 
> 
> Thanks for reading, let me know what you thought!


End file.
